Humancorp Incorporated

by Andrew Stanek

  “I don’t see any gunshot wounds in here,” Dr. Pokes said, still shining the light into Sean’s mouth.

  “He needs a trauma surgeon.”

  “No, judging from the looks of things in here, he needs a dentist,” said Dr. Pokes. “Yes, we’ll have to do one or two things in here right away. I see some cavities. We must drill them. Helen, the drill please!”

  The nurse, or to be more accurate, dentist’s assistant, arrived and handed Dr. Pokes a drill. He started to drill one of Sean’s teeth.

  “Good thing I caught this,” Dr. Pokes said. “Who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t!”

  “Ow!” Sean said.

  “Sorry,” said Dr. Pokes. “Did I nip you?”

  “No, I’ve been shot,” said Sean. “I’m in terrible pain.”

  “Let me give you something for that,” said Dr. Pokes, and Helen handed him a needle, the contents of which he injected into Sean’s cheek.

  “Any more pain?” he said kindly.

  “Yes,” Sean mumbled. “Maybe you could shoot that into my arm instead?”

  Dr. Pokes continued to drill Sean’s teeth.

  “Gauze,” he asked Helen, and stuffed it into Sean’s mouth. Then he drilled Sean’s cavity and filled it. Meanwhile, Sean continued to bleed onto the chair, which Noel watched nervously. Sean’s consciousness seemed to be slipping away again. His head lolled.

  “Please stay still and keep your mouth open, sir,” said the dentist. “I don’t want to have to use the dental devices, but I will if I have to.”

  “He’s dying!” Noel half-shouted.

  “Please, sir, don’t distract me, or I will have to ask you to leave,” said Dr. Pokes. “This is a very delicate process and I could cause Sean serious injury if I slip.”

  He finished filling the cavity, then inspected Sean’s teeth some more. Helen handed Dr. Pokes some floss, and he started to floss Sean’s teeth.

  “I can tell you don’t floss very often because your gums are bleeding as I do this.”

  “That’s definitely not his most significant bleeding right now,” Noel said, raising his voice.

  “Oral hygiene is important,” Dr. Pokes said defensively. “Oh, little problem on the bicuspid back there, I see. We’ll have to do something about that.” He finished flossing Sean’s teeth, then started to polish them with a dental hygienist’s electric brush and super-powered dental-grade abrasive toothpaste.

  “Been having a nice week so far, sir?” Dr. Pokes asked chattily as he did this. “I’ve been working on my collection of antique dolls. Would you like to hear about it? There was this beautiful little one I acquired just last week with a blue ribbon in her hair...”

  Sean passed out, either from pain, blood loss, or boredom.

  Dr. Pokes continued to polish Sean’s teeth for another minute or two. When he was done, Sean’s teeth were shining brightly enough that they were now illegal to point at passing aircraft. They glistened and sparkled unnaturally.

  “There,” Dr. Pokes said. “Now your teeth are completely healthy.”

  “I think he’s dead,” Noel pointed out, and kicked Sean in the thigh. Sean didn’t respond.

  “Very nice to meet you, Sean,” Dr. Pokes said kindly. “When can we schedule your next appointment?”

  “He’s dead,” Noel said again.

  “That doesn’t mean he can shirk his dentist’s visits,” Dr. Pokes said, appalled.

  Sean stirred and coughed slightly.

  “I didn’t quite catch that,” said Dr. Pokes. “Did you say you wanted an appointment for August or September?”

  “He’s alive,” Noel said. “We’ve still got a chance to save him! There’s real medical equipment somewhere in this building, right?”

  “I think so,” Dr. Pokes said. “I’ve always wondered what this stuff is for and it might be for internal medicine.”

  He waved his hand vaguely at a massive trove of medical equipment inside one of the nearby cabinets.

  “I’ll perform the surgery myself,” Noel declared. “We’ll just have to hope that human physiology is basically the same as catapult design.”

  And with that, he scrubbed, got out some catapult blueprints, retrieved a bag of blood plasma, and started to operate.

  Chapter 23

  For the second straight time, Sean regained consciousness in what he now knew to be a dentist’s waiting room. His head ached, burned, and swam unpleasantly. He opened his eyes. There was a card in his lap portraying a talking tooth that said, “See you in six months and remember to floss!” plus a bag with a toothbrush in it.

  Sean stared at them blearily, then clutched at his shoulder.

  “How are you feeling?” Noel asked anxiously.

  Sean turned to look at him, squinting a little as he did.

  “I feel like I was shot in the shoulder, then stitched back together by someone who only had the barest understanding of human physiology,” he said.

  “Yes, that is more or less what happened,” said Noel. “I wasn’t sure I operated correctly. I’ve never performed surgery on a person before, but I once catapulted a watermelon at a coyote and that’s basically the same, isn’t it? There were some fragments of bones in your shoulder that didn’t look very important to me, so I got rid of them, and also, I ran out of blood plasma so I had to give you a few transfusions of apple juice instead. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Perfectly alright,” Sean said woozily and tried to stand.

  “Woah,” Noel said. “Better take it easy. I’m not sure how much stress that popsicle stick I used to set your injury can take.”

  “Right.” Sean said. He pulled on his patched jacket, making sure the golden pin on his lapel was still there as he did. It was. He took a few deep breaths.

  “I feel pretty good,” he said. “Maybe you should think about becoming a doctor, Noel.”

  “Become a doctor?” Noel repeated in astonishment. “But there’s still so much harm I can do!”

  “Right,” Sean said again. “Sorry. I forgot how much you like to hurt people.”

  “That’s alright,” Noel said. “Incidentally, would you like to take this?”

  He handed Sean a pill.

  “No,” Sean said firmly. “I’m not going to survive being shot just to die taking a suicide pill.”

  “It’s not a suicide pill,” Noel said. “Honest. Come on, trust me.”

  Sean, grudgingly, agreed to pop the pill in his mouth.

  “It’s a suicide vitamin dietary supplement,” said Noel.

  Immediately, Sean spat it out.

  “Damnit, Noel,” he said.

  “It’s organic, eco-friendly, artisanal, locally sourced, and made using 100% all-natural cyanide and deadly nightshade,” Noel said proudly. “We’re going to sell them at Whole Foods.”

  Sean shifted uncomfortably.

  “Maybe I’d better just rest for a minute,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “Why does my wound feel sticky?”

  “That’s the chewing gum. Don’t mind that. Relax for a minute and let it harden and you’ll be fine.”

  There was a long silence. Something caught Sean’s eye.

  “Look,” Sean said, pointing to a TV in the corner of the waiting room. “My dad is on! Quick, turn up the volume.”

  “Your dad?” Noel repeated with puzzlement, but turned up the volume. It was a news program. A blond, female news anchor in a pantsuit was reporting on crime.

  “Violent crime has been falling for years, but this sudden uptick certainly is worrying. To discuss causes, I am joined tonight by UC Riverside Criminology and Sociology professor Ian A. Shrink and noted raving madman and anti-gardening activist Rodney Woods. Welcome to you both.”

  “Great to be here, Shelly,” said Professor Shrink, a middle-aged man in a gray suit with glasses.

  “Begonias!” shrieked Rodney at earsplitting pitch.

  “Which one of these is your father?” Noel asked Sean.

  “That one, I think,” Sean said
, indicating Rodney.

  “So, Professor Shrink,” said the anchor. “What is causing the nationwide rise in crime?”

  Shrink cleared his throat.

  “Well, Shelly, I think we can attribute the recent escalation in the crime rate to a number of societal factors, like unemployment and the drug epidemic, and also much underrated instances of regional under-employment and unemployment. Even though the unemployment rate nationwide may be low, in particular states and cities, the rate is actually very high and that coincides-”

  “Begonias!” bellowed Rodney again. “It’s the damn begonias. They’re out to get us.” He pulled up close to the camera, his eyes wild and darting. “They read my thoughts while I sleep,” he hissed covertly.

  “I don’t think anyone is denying those are all factors,” Professor Shrink said diplomatically, “but I think it would be a mistake to attribute instances of crime wholly to-”

  “Destroying our marriages with their floral mind-control rays,” Rodney continued to rave. “Buying up all the tape to create shortages! Covering city halls in ice! Trying to get their hands on our precious fertilizer and water reserves! All the begonias!”

  “Again, I don’t think the begonias are responsible-”

  “I’m not a racist; you’re the racist!” Rodney shouted.

  “And I’m afraid that’s all we have sanity for,” the news anchor said. “Thank you for your contributions and good evening to you both. Next on the program tonight, we have a Flat Earther debate a scientist about the cause of earthquakes, but first: not everyone agrees that the recent crime epidemic is caused by begonias. For his perspective, we turn now to Donald Trump-”

  Since his father’s appearance was over, Sean turned off the TV at this point.

  “What does your father do, exactly?” Noel asked after a long pause.

  “He’s an anti-begonia activist,” Sean said. “He appears on TV programs and gives talks to warn people about the dangers of begonias.”

  “Uh, so were you raised by your mother?”

  “Nope,” said Sean, and seized a nearby potted plant and destroyed it by smashing it into the floor.

  “That actually wasn’t a begonia,” said Noel.

  “It was a begonia sympathizer,” said Sean.

  Noel considered.

  “I guess I really don’t know anything about you, even though I’ve known you for - uh - three hours. Really? It was only three hours? It seemed like longer. Anyway, tell me something about yourself.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like that pin on your jacket,” Noel said. “I notice you often check to make sure it’s safe.”

  “Yeah,” Sean agreed, adjusting it carefully. “It’s a memento given to me by my last girlfriend. I loved her so much. She had hair. And driving! She could drive. She was so special.”

  “What was her name?” asked Noel.

  “I forget,” said Sean. “But she had eyes. If you ever see a girl with hair and eyes, it’s probably her. Wait, did she have eyes? I can’t remember. It’s been so long now.”

  “How did you get the gold pin? Did you steal it?”

  “No. She gave it to me just before she broke up with me. I remember it like it was yesterday. We were driving at speed down the highway, and she threw my door open and physically kicked me out of the car with her feet. As she drove away, screaming obscenities at me and flipping me off, I realized it was over. It broke my heart. My doctor says I barely survived.”

  “I was wondering why you had all those scars on your chest,” said Noel.

  “Your turn,” said Sean. “You tell me something about yourself.”

  “Nothing to tell,” said Noel.

  “What are your hopes and dreams? Your goal in life?”

  Noel shrugged. “I’m just an average scientifically-minded engineer who wants to give the world the kangaroo trebuchet and the better suicide pill,” he said. “We’d better get back to the lab. I left Isaac there, and he’s probably worried about us.”

  Both men stood to leave. As they walked out of the door of the infirmary, a thought struck Noel and he turned to Sean.

  “Did you really fight for Al Qaeda, like your resumé says?”

  “It’s a big misunderstanding,” said Sean. “The Al Qaeda I fought for was a different organization of the same name. In fact, they didn’t believe in Allah at all. They were Mormons.”

  And with that, the door swung shut behind them.

  Chapter 24

  Back in the laboratory, Noel was stuffing a small child into a machine designed to fry his brain. The glass shield slid down and sealed Isaac inside the chamber.

  “So you see,” Sean said, continuing their previous conversation. “The name ‘Al Qaeda’ really just means ‘The Foundation’ in Arabic, and there’s no reason to think there wouldn’t be another organization of the same name, but everyone just assumes when I say I fought for Al Qaeda I mean that Al Qaeda...”

  “Whew,” Noel said, wiping some sweat off his brow. “That was a lot easier than putting Eats in this thing.”

  “So this machine will change me?” Isaac asked, nervously adjusting his glasses.

  “Yes. It won’t just change the way you behave. It’ll also change the way everyone else treats you. I’ve programmed it using this console, here, to make you less shy and more able to express yourself.”

  Noel indicated a computerized panel on the side of the tube.

  “Then, I’ll activate it from that different console over there when we’re ready to begin. Speaking of which, Sean, you and I should put on our tinfoil hats.”

  They both lowered tinfoil hats over their heads.

  “Why are you doing that?” Isaac asked.

  “It protects us from the brain resonance that is going to cause everyone else’s perceptions of you to change. Resonance from your brain, amplified by this satellite dish, has the power to change everyone’s minds to comport with your perception of yourself.”

  “I don’t understand,” Isaac said.

  “You know how when you say something stupid, like that ducks are descended from elk, but no one around you knows anything about it, so no one contradicts you? Then everyone assumes it must be true and goes around saying ducks are really the same as elk?”

  “Yeah,” Isaac said.

  “It’s basically the same thing. Now, let’s get this brain reprogramming on the road. Running Preset #2: Program to Make Everyone Pay Attention to Isaac!”

  “Before we get started, could I ask something?” Isaac suggested anxiously. “Noel, why are your hands covered in blood?”

  “Oh, I just did an unlicensed surgery. Don’t worry about that. Now, Isaac, this could hurt a little.”

  “Just a little?” Isaac asked.

  “Or a lot,” said Noel, and pressed a button on his computer console.

  The tube flashed and green lightning arced across Isaac’s brain. Isaac started to twitch.

  “Is he supposed to do that?” Sean asked nervously.

  “Sure. You twitched way harder than that when you were in there.”

  A few minutes passed. The glass tube opened and Isaac fell, smoking from the hair, towards the floor. Sean caught him, ripping off his tinfoil hat as he did.

  “Do you feel okay?” Sean asked.

  “I have a headache,” Isaac groaned.

  “Here, take these,” Noel said. “They’ll get rid of the pain-”

  Sean slapped the suicide pills away.

  Isaac slowly staggered to his feet.

  “I think it worked,” he exclaimed. “I feel a lot better! Like I can talk without being afraid. I think I could even sing, or speak to girls now. Maybe I can even sing to girls now. Thanks a lot! I’ll never trick the principal into replacing the student body with chickens for my own benefit again!”

  Then, he gave Sean a big hug.

  “Awww,” Sean said affectionately, while taking advantage of the opportunity to pick Isaac’s back pocket.

  Nearby, the donkey cart dr
iver had entered the room.

  “I’ll take him back home,” the cart driver said. “Come on, Isaac.”

  “Sure,” Isaac said brightly. “Let me tell you about my bottlecap collection.”

  And Isaac chatted easily to the cart driver and the donkey until they disappeared in a blue flash.

  “Well, so much for running a million volts of lightning through children,” said Noel, clapping his hands together. “My large defect-detector is homing in on the last defective person we have to get. There’s only one more.”

  “Great,” Sean said, then looked at where Isaac had fallen, brain smoking. “Do you think we did a good thing?”

  Noel shrugged.

  “Good, evil, it all pays the same.”

  “It sure as hell doesn’t,” Dinero’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker somewhere. “Don’t you people listen to anything I say? Evil is at least twelve times as profitable as good. This company wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for evil. Where would we be if people produced more people, as God and nature intended?”

  His voice had turned high-pitched and mocking on the last sentence.

  Noel looked upwards towards the source of Dinero’s voice in bewilderment.

  “How are you talking to us?”

  “Obviously, I have secret monitoring and surveillance equipment, not to mention speakers, everywhere,” Dinero said. “And I livestream it as reality TV for the advertising dollars! Evil, remember? Anyway, Sean, come up to my office right away. I have a special assignment for you.”

  “But I’m not even done with the last assignment you gave me,” Sean complained.

  “Oh, you can finish that in the unpaid overtime I’ll force you to do,” Dinero said dismissively. “Just get up here.”

  Sean shrugged.

  “See you later,” Noel said.

  “Bye,” replied Sean, and waltzed out of the laboratory and into the nearby elevator. He punched the button for the CEO’s office.

  “Prole, recall you are expected to work constantly, even while in the elevator,” the elevator voice said. “Failure to work inside the elevator will result in your salary being garnished. If we aren’t paying you, we’ll have you beaten up and lit on fire instead.”